It's hard

to fill the space with silence

when all I want to do is

throw myself away

like trash

and live among the

rotten banana peels and noisy thoughts of isolation.

Screaming for help,

but I am voiceless, a doormat

and the footprints are shaped like mine.

5 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


When future knocks on my door, it emphasizing the growth I have taken the staircase that never stop going. Forever growing and in either direction.


the clouds moving across the pale blue sky, dripping rain down on my patio. My cats sleeping next to each other, butt to butt, when about two years ago they couldn't stand each other. They breathe in

Cold Rush

Time to increase down the aisle. Opening up to something else that I can't see, to feel the assault of love slap me in the face.

©2019 by Chaotically Small Poetry. Proudly created with